Batman's Daughter - Phoenix Rising
by Kathryn6456
Summary: Clara is Bruce Wayne's daughter, a brilliant woman who's caught the interest of the madman Joker. His obsession for the Batman had led him to her; but truly, it's her music that touches his soul; and her mind that ignites his new obsession with her. New Story. Terrible at Summaries - but I had great fun writing it; obsessively almost lol. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Clara looked up from the piano. Her father touched her shoulder, "That's beautiful." She smiled at the dark hairs man with the clean-shaven face. His white polo shirt made his broad shoulders look even larger. It was noon and he was sipping at a large glass of orange juice.

"Have a late night?" she mused as she flipped open another music booklet to the first page.

"Umm," he mumbled sipping his juice to avoid the question.

"Please tell me that she is gone at least," she commented, getting her fingers ready to play the next piece. Her father was a billionaire playboy, and that was being generous.

"I'm sure that I have no idea what you are talking about," he retorted kindly at his beautiful daughter.

Bruce Wayne looked at the beautiful child who mirrored him so closely in everything except for his eyes. She had her mother's eyes, bright vibrant blue eyes that complemented her dark black hair that curled slightly. He watched her hands fly over the piano as she started to play again and marveled at the talent she had. An idea came to him.

"I'm holding a fundraiser next month," he said.

She nodded, her body keeping time with the music, "I know."

"Why don't you play for us that night?" he asked, waiting to see her react.

Her hands slowed to a stop and she turned to him, "Really?" she asked with a smile. Bruce nodded, "Yeah, not all night obviously, because your my date. You will be my date right?"

Clara smiled and nodded, "Of course. I have to keep the women of Gotham from taking advantage of you."

Bruce chuckled, "You know, some papers think that I take advantage of them."

She laughed and brushed him off, "Go away. I have to practice."

Bruce nodded and left his daughter to practice. Clara smiled as she started to play again, picking up were she had trailed off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the Second Chapter - Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Two**

It was the night of the party and Clara was looking out her bedroom window. Down below the party had begun and she was almost going to be late for the fundraiser. The lights twinkled softly as she watched the people move about like an intricate dance between waiters with trays and the people who were there to give their money to the Bruce Wayne Charity for Young Boys.

A knock on her door made her turn, a man with a black tuxedo walked in. Bruce smiled at his beautiful daughter. She was dressed in a black strapless dress that flowed down to the floor. Her black hair was pinned up in making it look wild and messy, but somehow contained.

"My dear, you look lovely," he said to her, holding out his hand and escorting her down to the party.

"Thank you."

"Nervous?"

"A little, but I only have three songs, so if I balm then it will be over with in fifteen minutes," she replied with a nervous smile.

"Don't worry. You are very accomplished," he assured her.

Alfred stood at the front doors waiting for them. He smiled at the beautiful father daughter duo they made. Clara smiled at him and hugged the older man who had been her closest friend for as long as she could remember.

"You look lovely my dear," he whispered in her ear. Then releasing her from the hug he looked over her father, "you clean up well yourself, Master Wayne."

Bruce chuckled, "Why thank you Alfred. You are not to shabby yourself."

The old man smiled at the banter.

"Have all the guests arrived?" asked Bruce as he fiddled with his bowtie one last time.

"Here, let me get it," said Clara, noticing his fidgitlyness over the bow. She pulled it into it's proper straight place with a quick twist.

"Yes, everyone has arrived; even the commissioner has arrived on time."

"My, most unusual. He must not have enough to do at the office," remarked Bruce, glancing down at his daughter.

Clara smiled, but didn't understand the conversation, not that she cared to anyways. She cared about the violence that was evident in her beloved Gotham City, but she did not meddle in the policing of the people, choosing to believe that kindness and compassion were better tools than corrections and policing.

"Come now Father, we cannot be late to our own party. It would be rude, and the tabloids would be very unforgiving," she said, with a smile on her face. Her father cared little about the tabloids, as he likely was one of the only reasons why they stayed in business.

"Your right my dear, come," he said with a smile, taking his daughters arm again. "Let us take money from the wealthy to help the poor." He did his best to impersonate Robin Hood and failed miserably, making Clara giggle.

"Disney called and he wants his lines back," she retorted as the front doors opened.

He laughed at her comment and led her down to the main outer reception area where the party was being held. He led her through the crowds and as they passed people, they stopped to smile and speak to each person. They separated after a time, the father daughter duo being more apt to speak to more people alone in order to gain the funding that they needed for the year. They had been hosting this fundraiser every year on the same Saturday of September. Everyone automatically placed the event into his or her yearly calendar, as the event was truly magical. The Wayne family spared no expense to entertain the wealthy, and each year as the party grew more elaborate, the money that was fundraised grew to nearly ridiculous levels.

Clara watched from the refreshment table as world-class dancers graced the stage, dancing based on the different themes they had been given. Earlier, two world famous comedians had done a comedy routine entertaining the crowd greatly.

"Hiding I see," comment Alfred, who had come up behind her.

Clara nodded, "Why did I let him talk me into this?" she whispered to him.

"Because you are very good, better than some world class players."

"You have to say that."

"Ohh? And why is that?" chuckled the old man.

"Because you love me and therefore support me. Remember when I was ten and wanted to play the violin. I screeched on that thing for a year and every time I played you would tell me that I was the best violinist in the world."

"Ahh yes," replied Alfred cheekily, "My hearing had given way that year, I didn't get hearing implants until a few weeks after you quite."

Clara snorted, "A likely story."

The dancers on stage finished as the music ended. The audience cheered and clapped, standing up from their seats. Clara thought about throwing up in her shoes. She looked at Alfred, terror evident on her face.

"Come now dear," he said taking her hand. "Up we go. It will be over in fifteen minutes, and if you're terrible I'll make sure that your father tells the papers not to say anything."

"Gee, thanks," replied Clara as he brought her up onto the stage. A grand piano had been wheeled out for her. Her father stood up with her and smiled as she went from Alfred to him. He led her to the piano and whispered "Good luck" in to her ear as she sat down. She smiled at him weakly.

Bruce turned to address the audience, "I have a very special treat for you all this evening. Many of you have heard the piano in the manor being played at nights some times while you have visited and I've always told you that the house is full of ghosts." He paused and chuckled, "I lied."

The crowd responded, laughing at his joke. "No, in fact Clara has been the one playing. I frankly have no idea where she got it. I can hardly get through chopsticks without making the piano go out of tune... But Clara has a special gift and tonight, for the first time ever, she is going to play for you."

He bowed and the crowd cheered for her. Clara smiled at her father as he left the stage and then placed her hands on the keys. She began playing a slow and haunting tune about two star-crossed lovers. Her hands flew over the keys with confidence as she lost herself in the music, swaying slightly to keep time. Her eyes closed and she relaxed into the music. The piece ended and then there was silence. Clara opened her eyes, surprised. A single hand clapped as it moved towards her.

She looked to her father to see that he had a gun pointed to his head. The crowd was hushed. The man clapping came out from the darkness of the crowd and onto the stage. She looked at the man in the purple suit and green dress shirt, with the clown makeup and frowned.

"My my dear, you sounded lovely," praised the Joker. He held out his hand to Clara, and she took it glancing to her father again.

"Don't worry my dear; I won't hurt your father. Nor the good people here. No," he said pulling her closer to him, "I'm just here for the money."

She glared at him, "Then take the jewels and go."

The Joker laughed, surprised by the attitude he was getting from the little girl he held in his arms. He was accustomed to people being afraid of him, respecting the name Joker. Yet this girl didn't seem afraid of him.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars?" he mused to her, pulling her into his chest and pulling out a knife.

Clara felt her body against the Jokers chest and tried not to push him off her. She was slightly surprised that he smelled clean. Somehow, she had always imagined that he was dirty, or at the very least, didn't shower regularly. She had heard his speak, but had ignored the threat.

Bruce tried to push the three men that were on him to get to his daughter. A man slammed a gun but into his back and he dropped to his knees. "It's me you want Joker, take me instead of her!" he yelled at the man in the purple suit.

Clara looked past the Joker to her father kneeling on the ground and then back to the man who brought the knife up to her face. The joker paused at the statement and looked over at Bruce.

"Don't worry Brucy, I wasn't going to hurt her," he chuckled. "But I can cut you instead."

Clara looked into the Jokers eyes, "Don't."

The Joker looked back at the small woman in his arms who hadn't struggled against him. It surprised him, "Aren't you afraid of me?" he asked, whispering into her ear as his knife leveled at Clara's throat.

"Should I be?"

The joker laughed an eerie laugh then slammed her into the piano, pinning her face first. She left out a cry of surprise but didn't struggle against him. She felt the knife slice into her and she bit her lip. He carved into her shoulder for a moment and then released her. Her shoulder stung but she turned to face him again, a few tears falling from her face.

"All rightly boys, let's get out of here!" he shouted, and several guns fired up into the sky. The guests dropped down to the floor in panic, but Clara remained standing. The three men who held down her father butted him again with their guns and then left.

Joker looked at her and smiled, a psychotic smile, "Until next time!" he said the darted off, jumping into a large cargo van. The tires squealed and they van raced off into the dark of the night.

Clara felt her father cover her in a large hug, pulling her close, but she remained stiff to his touch. Her mind was a thousand miles away as she watched the van vanish over the horizon. She could hear shouting as men with guns came onto the premises, and as police cars chased after the van. She watched them go, only aware of one very important fact. The Joker, a notorious woman killer, when he chose a female victim. Who cut all of the women in the face before either he killed them or let them live horribly disfigured had chosen not to cut her face. Instead, she realized as she touched the cut, he had marked her with his sign. The symbol of a J and had left her with a sinking suspicion that he was going to seek her out again.

She looked at her father, as Alfred escorted her to a table where a nearby surgeon who was at the party prepped a small med kit for stitching from an ambulance. She wondered if perhaps the Joker knew that her father was the Batman, and that this was nothing more than elaborate game of cat and mouse, only now she was a part of it. She heard the surgeon, a Dr. Jackson Black tell her that he was going to give her some stitching, and offered something to dull the pain. She waved it off as she watched her father, the mayor, and the commissioner standing in a small huddle talking to one another.

"Miss," said Dr. Black, snapping his fingers in front of Clara's eyes. Her eyes focused on the doctor with the large needle in his hand.

"Ohh, yes, I'm sorry Jackson. I was a million miles away."

"That's most likely shock. I have to put in some stitches, but if you come to the hospital, I can do some work and cover up most of the cut," he said, trying to delicately put that her scars would be upsetting.

Her eyes focused away from him to the scene before her and then back to the man. She smiled at him and waved him off, "It's fine. Just stitch me up and put a bandage on it. It's not that deep."

Dr. Black nodded, "This is going to hurt a little," he said as he pulled the needle through her skin. Clara clenched her jaw.

Hours later, she made her way up to her bedroom, tired, strung out from the adrenaline, and wanting nothing more than a hot shower and her bed. She stripped off her dress and left it on the floor. It was stained with some of her blood and she didn't care to ever see the dress again. She kicked it away and then slipped off her high heels. Her feet ached as they touched the floor again and she hobbled over to the bathroom.

Her mind wandered to what had happened earlier that night while she showered. _Why would the Joker mark her with his symbol? What as the point? If he knew that her father was Batman then maybe that would explain the mark. It could be his way of drawing Batman... her father out. But what if the Joker didn't know who her father was? Why would he single her out? _

She sighed and turned the water off. She towel dried her body and wrapped her hair up into a messy bun. Her bed felt amazing as Clara slid into it. She considered turning off the lights, but the idea made her skin crawl. She simply turned over, getting comfortable in bed and then passed out.

Down below in the belly of Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne watched the video footage of the attack on his home and his daughter. He replayed it over and over, wanting to know why his daughter had been targeted, and why she hadn't resisted against the man who had grabbed her. He zoomed into his daughters face. He didn't see fear in his daughter eyes, just a calm that slightly unnerved him. He had trained her to be calm in a dangerous situation. To be rational, but he had never thought that she had understood the lessons that he taught her.

Now watching her, he could see that she had allowed the Joker to believe that he had the upper hand even when he didn't. On the screen, he could see three separate incidents where Clara could have over powered the Joker easily. He wondered why she hadn't. Was she worried that the men in Jokers command would kill him or others?

"Master Wayne?" asked Alfred. He had been watching Bruce go over the footage repeatedly but could not understand what he was looking for. Why he was looking at his daughter so closely.

"She wasn't afraid, Alfred," commented Bruce, knowing what the man was asking. "She could have taken the Joker three times, but she didn't."

"What would have been the point?" asked Alfred, surprised by the man's thoughts.

Bruce turned to look at Alfred, swivelling in his computer chair. "What do you mean?"

Alfred shrugged, "She could have taken the Joker, and then what? Someone could have gotten killed, or worse, you could have been shot."

Wayne laughed, "Me getting shot is the worst option?"

"You are a terrible patient. No, Clara did the right thing. I don't think that either of us have the sanity to deal with you when you are forced to stay in your bed for more than a day."

Wayne laughed again and then turned back to the computer, shutting it down. Alfred watched the Master stand up and smiled softly at the younger man, "She is growing up and it's hard to watch her do that."

"I'm just not used to her being able to deal with a situation on her own. It's unsettling."

The older man patted the younger man's shoulder, "It could be worse Sir. She could go out at night dressed up like a giant bat and fight evil."

Wayne laughed, amused by the old butlers dry humor. "Yes, because we don't need two masked vigilantes out in the streets."

"Thank goodness for small favors," remarked Alfred. "Do you think she will be alright?"

"I hope so. I've taught her all the tools to survive. Now it's about her wanting to live," replied the father thoughtfully. Bruce had been were his daughter had been. Violated and broken, his only hope was that she was build of a stronger metal than he had been.


End file.
